


Kinetic Energy

by aristotle_chipotle



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Banter, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Humor, Friendship/Love, Kissing, M/M, Post-Inception, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:42:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28755333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aristotle_chipotle/pseuds/aristotle_chipotle
Summary: There's an art installation at the airport. It's a good place for goodbyes, confessions, banter, teasing, deep conversations, and for breaking the rules.
Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception), Dom Cobb/Saito
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	Kinetic Energy

_"Kinetic Energy_ , designed in 2007 by Japanese-American artist Kira Kiyoko, is an exploration of movement and light in a dynamic medium. The changing colors in the light tunnel interact with pedestrians in the gallery using thermal cameras, and pick up on body temperature like a mood ring. The sensors detect movement, allowing for interaction with the piece. The viewer becomes the artist."

* * *

Ariadne stepped away from the plaque on the wall, glancing up at the tunnel of green, breathing light. It was the same soft, emerald color as a natural forest of trees, light spilling through the digital canopy as she moved. Every slight gesture was picked up on the cameras, and the pinpoints flickered and danced delicately.

It was a nice installation, she thought. Entertaining. But there was something unsettling about cameras picking up on your body temperature. It was like an unprompted polygraph. A lie detector test. Any blush or panic would read on the walls all around her. She was grateful that she wasn't prone to either.

Soft classical music drifted down from the speakers, and she took a few experimental steps, watching the light on the walls sway when she did. She held her to-go coffee tightly between her hands, watching the deep green swirl with purples and sunset tones when the cameras caught the hot surface. She found herself almost dancing, enjoying the steady movement she could control.

She wondered how long it would be before she got used to a static world around her. A world she couldn't change with a thought. Maybe that was why she lingered in the light tunnel. It was like a dream. Addictive.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?"

The voice almost made her drop her coffee. It wasn't stern as much as playful. She flushed, embarrassed, and turned to see Arthur standing there.

"Not yet," she said. Then, "But this is definitely against the rules."

"Rules?"

"What Cobb said, remember? We aren't supposed to talk after this. We aren't supposed to acknowledge each other."

"Right," sighed Arthur. "Well, I very much doubt that Robert Fischer will be exploring the airport galleries. Last I saw, he was getting into a very nice car, and looked like he was going to be sick."

Ariadne stifled a laugh, realizing how _not_ funny it was supposed to be. "I shouldn't laugh. I really shouldn't."

"You should. I almost feel bad for him, poor guy."

She watched as the deep greens faded into yellows and whites and pinks, brightening like an early morning. There was a twinkling effect, like a flicker of stars, as her gasps and laughs registered on the wall, sparkling like sun on water.

"This is bad," she groaned. "This is bad. I'm a terrible person."

"There you two are." She recognized the voice as Yusuf's. "I wondered where you'd run off to."

He stood there, his bag over his shoulder, looking up at the light tunnel.

"Ariadne was just sharing what a terrible person she was," said Arthur flatly.

"Oh? Why's that?"

"For laughing at Robert Fischer."

"Don't apologize, love. It's pretty funny."

"I'm not making fun of him, it's just..." she paused to take a breath. "What's the word?"

"Catharsis," said Yusuf confidently.

"I feel like a big weight is off my shoulders, and now everything feels wrong. I don't know _what_ I'm feeling." Ariadne sighed. "We really shouldn't be talking here. We should have left hours ago."

"Hey, take some time to breathe," said Arthur, smiling. "You did good, okay? Cobb's not here to yell at us. We can just... relax and feel it."

They were silent for a moment, eyes on the light, watching the sparks and bold strokes of digital paint swirl and settle, an entirely new color and pattern.

"You were incredible," said Yusuf softly. "Both of you. Way to keep it together."

"I don't know what I'm going to do now," said Ariadne.

"We'll figure it out," said Arthur. "Maybe we can swap phone numbers."

Ariadne shot him a look, and he laughed. "What? Just a suggestion."

"My life of crime is over, boys," she said, smiling. "I can't say I won't miss this, though. Not the near-death experiences part, but _this_. The in-between stuff. The _creating_."

"You'll find a new outlet," said Yusuf. "Life goes on."

And he gave her shoulders a protective squeeze, and Arthur bent down, kissing her forehead.

"I'll see you never," she said, tired but optimistic, grabbing her suitcase and turning to leave the tunnel with a new motivation and energy, leaving a trail of light and pink and yellow that made the tunnel glow.

"Here's hoping," Arthur called after her.

* * *

Arthur stayed longer in the tunnel, on the wooden bench halfway between entrance and exit. He stayed until all traces of the other two had faded to a deep teal color. Teal for calm and quiet and steady breathing. It was a feedback loop, like the dreams. The art relaxed him, and as it did, he relaxed the art, until the kinetic energy was stilled.

And all of a sudden, it shattered with a timely disruption.

Eames' footsteps tapped all the way down the tunnel with no respect for the previous stillness. The teal exploded into lighter greens and fragmented itself into new shapes. Whatever classical track had been playing changed to something guitar-ish and painfully modern, and Arthur's calm was gone.

"You know, Cobb said you were supposed to get lost," said Arthur.

"Did he? I must not have been paying attention."

Despite his annoyance, Arthur sensed Eames' path to the bench without even looking, and subconsciously moved to the other side to make room.

"You have plans, probably," said Eames.

"Probably."

"And I suppose I'm not worthy of knowing what they are?"

"If you must know, I'm staying here. That was the original plan before Fischer, anyway." Arthur shrugged. "I don't know. I might change my mind after lunch. It's all very flexible. I could go anywhere."

"No you can't," said Eames, laughing softly.

"Pardon?"

Eames held up a wallet, and for a moment Arthur wondered why it looked so familiar, until he felt his suspiciously empty coat pocket. He glared.

"You ever hear about using your powers for good?"

Eames scoffed, opening the wallet. "Let's see what we have here. Twenty dollars, and your driver's license is expired." He held up the small card in the dim light. "That picture is adorable, by the way."

Arthur snatched the wallet back, pocketing it. "Why the sudden interest in my well-being?"

"Just making sure you aren't booked for the day. We're going to lunch."

"Since when?"

"I decided while I was going through customs. There's a great place off the highway, if you can stomach Los Angeles food. How do you feel about Mexican?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Ah, Mr. I-Have-Connections. Let me guess. You're a regular? You know everybody in this town? _One_ of us actually lived in California for the majority of their life, and it's not the guy in the satin shirt."

"No. I found it twenty minutes ago on Google Maps." Eames raised an eyebrow. "If I hadn't just shared a ten-hour dream with you, I'd ask if you got enough sleep last night. Or maybe you're always like this." He paused, smiling, and the fragments of light brightened. "You're really a Californian?"

"I'm a citizen of the world."

"Is that why you dress like a bisexual grammar teacher?"

Arthur coughed, trying to disguise an indignant laugh. It was a failure, and he found himself bent over, hand clasped against his mouth, laughing too hard to bear it.

Eames watched, and watched the lights around them pulse brighter and brighter, warmer and warmer.

"Just saying."

"Stop," begged Arthur, laughing, wiping away tears. "Stop. Just give me a second. I can't breathe. I hate you."

But the _I hate you_ painted the walls bright pink, almost red.

"I'm going to need a solid yes or no on the lunch invitation, dear," said Eames. "They need reservations."

"You're buying," sighed Arthur.

"Suits me fine, seeing how you've only got twenty dollars. Were you planning on just hitting a McDonald's and seeing where two thousand calories of processed plastic took you?"

Arthur stood up, stretching the stiffness out of his legs. "Do you want the truth?"

"Sometimes."

"I wasn't planning on anything."

Eames laughed to himself. "You knew I'd come."

"You're not exactly unpredictable," said Arthur smugly. "As much as you seem convinced you are, you aren't. Not to me, anyway. It's pathetic."

"How much are you willing to wager on that notion, my friend?" asked Eames.

"How does twenty bucks sound?"

Eames smiled, considered this, and in the blink of an eye, closed the space between them in a firm and determined kiss that sent shards of light cascading across the tunnel. It was a sunburst of bright yellow light that flooded the room and spun out, kicked up by the sudden movement that had stilled just as quickly.

When he finally pulled away, Arthur was smiling, his eyes still closed like he'd chosen a perfect moment in time and chosen to remain there.

"I'll be taking this, then," said Eames softly, holding up the twenty.

"Give me my wallet back," whispered Arthur, too breathless to be annoyed.

"With pleasure," said Eames, leaning in again.

* * *

Tucked away in a corner of the airport, without any visitors for a half an hour or so, the tunnel's interior grew cold. Deep blue light glowed, static, gentle like twilight. The shards of light didn't move or dance. At least, not until a new presence stirred them up, but just barely.

The air hummed with the soft tones of Clair De Lune, and Saito stopped in the exact middle of the tunnel, suit jacket folded over his arm, quiet. The stillness was eerie.

Somehow, he couldn't bring himself to move from that spot. He watched the kinetic installation settle in the wake of his movement, and seal behind him like a portal, closing. He read the plaque and remembered Kira Kiyoko. He remembered meeting her at a museum event. She was one of those eccentric artist types who couldn't handle diplomacy well. Too blunt.

He'd always liked looking forward at new possibility, not considering setbacks. He saw only open doors. When the possibilities were endless, you could feel immortal. The world could be yours.

Impossibility was just a painful reminder of mortality, so he'd always pushed himself higher and higher, not thinking of what would happen if things went wrong. His world was fast-paced, and if you couldn't keep up, there was no point in keeping you around.

He hadn't kept up.

That was the thought that ate at him as he stood there under the soft blue light. He hadn't kept up, even in the beginning of the job. He'd failed terribly, and he'd become dead weight. In the end, he was nothing but a burden and an inconvenience. The terms had been laid out plainly before him. He would die, and he would lose his mind. All he could trust was his own ability to stay sane in a perfect replica of his world, and remember to wake himself up.

But he hadn't. He'd forgotten. He'd become lost in a false reality, and he never would have made it out if Cobb hadn't come back.

He hadn't kept up.

On an instinct, he moved to sit down on the bench, and quickly stopped himself. He wasn't old. he didn't need to rest. The aches he thought he felt were ghosts, and he was fine, wasn't he?

Or maybe it was a different kind of pain now.

He forced himself to stay standing and fixed his gaze on the light wall. He was so determined to study it, he almost missed the soft footsteps entering the tunnel, but walking so slowly that they barely disturbed the light at all.

"I figured you'd be gone," said Saito quietly.

"Same to you," said Cobb.

There was a brief, uncomfortable silence, and Saito knew he was being looked at. He didn't like it, but he didn't want to turn and face Cobb.

"I trust everything went as planned? You had no trouble with immigration?"

Cobb shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets. "One of the guys at the desk told me to hurry up so he could help the next person. That was annoying."

Saito didn't say anything.

"That was a joke. It was smooth as anything." Cobb cleared his throat. "Thank you... for that."

"And you'll be going home to your children then?"

"That's the plan. Miles is trying to find a taxi," said Cobb. "I told him I forgot something and had to go back."

"Did you?"

Cobb took a step closer.

"I did. I'm sorry I didn't think about it sooner. I was so caught up in being home, and being here legally. I didn't even think-" he stopped short, rethinking his approach. "How do you feel, Mr. Saito?"

Saito inhaled, holding the suit jacket more tightly. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. We were both down there together, and we both had to bear it, so I want to... I need to make sure you're okay."

"I'm alive, aren't I?" Saito laughed coldly.

"Well, that's a start."

Saito saw the lights flicker as Cobb moved closer, sitting behind him on the bench, distinctly to one side. It was an invitation, but he wouldn't accept. He needed answers.

"You came back," said Saito. "Tell me why."

"I just told you."

"Not that. I mean in the dream. You didn't have to." Saito paused. "You needed me to fulfill our arrangement."

"Among other things. I needed you to wake up and remember your own name. I needed you to wake up with some semblance of a sane mind. I know what limbo does to a person." Cobb frowned. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting for so long."

Saito replayed the fragments of the scene in his mind. The way the memories had come flooding back to him. The feel of the gun in his hand. The way he'd rushed it, not wanting to see Cobb's body lying there on the floor before he went himself. Then waking up, and seeing him there, like the ghost of a past life. It still felt unreal, and for a moment he felt a surge of terror as he wondered if this was reality, and if he hadn't just fallen into deeper dreamspace. He turned quickly, staring at Cobb in a panic.

Cobb recognized that look instantly and rose to his feet.

"Hey, it's okay," he said softly, trying to de-escalate the dissociated unease in Saito's eyes. It was that same expression he'd seen in the mirror so many times. "Hey. Hey, look at me. You're fine. You're here."

"I don't know," said Saito. "Everything's a mess. I don't think I can go back."

He'd held on for so long, and now the level-headed facade was slipping away.

"You're going to be okay, but you need to be honest," insisted Cobb. "Tell me what's wrong. Tell me anything that's on your mind, because if you don't say it, it's just going to overwhelm you and you'll get lost in it. It's just like inception."

He remembered Mal's eerie silence after they'd woken up all those years ago. How she turned so thoughtful and quiet, and then she was gone. Mal was gone, and there was nothing he could do to fix it. She was no longer a physical presence in the world, but Saito, Saito was still here. He had to stay that way. Cobb reached out and held his shoulders, anchoring both of them in reality as well as he could.

"This feels fake," said Saito, trying to steady his breathing. "This doesn't feel like me."

"It might not for a while, but you have to keep at it. This is real, I promise. We're back home, aren't we? Think about it. Count the dream layers. We're back through all of them."

Saito did the mental mathematics and nodded slowly. "That's right."

"That's right," Cobb repeated. "It's just like you said, isn't it? We can be young men together again." He exhaled softly, running over the phrase in his mind. "We can be young men together again."

The movement stirred the lights on the ceiling, spinning them into a dance that cast strange shadows, agitating the deep blue into teal and flowing steadily like waves crashing on a beach.

Cobb's hand found the side of Saito's face naturally, and he briefly considered moving closer, comforting him, but every movement was pushing the moment closer to feeling unreal. The last thing they needed was another level of unreality. They didn't need something to feel like a dream right now, no matter how gentle, so Cobb pulled away and satisfied himself with a declaration.

"I lost Mal to this. I'm not going to lose you too."

Saito nodded. "You won't."

"You shouldn't leave alone. You'll... you'll spiral or something. Please come back with me tonight, and I'll explain what you can do to make sure nothing happens. The side effects can hurt for a while. Not _pain_ , but like..."

"I know," said Saito. "I felt it."

"I'm so, so sorry."

It was Saito who brought them back to that dreamlike feeling, taking Cobb's hand and replacing it where it had been resting, smiling, eyes glistening with tears as the tunnel glowed. This time, Cobb didn't hesitate, and allowed himself to be held as he pressed his forehead against Saito's.

"I'm sorry I kept you waiting," he said gently. "I'm here now."

"And we can be young men together again," said Saito, voice breaking as he smiled.

"That's right."

Overhead, the lights swirled and stilled their motion, resting as the visitors rested below them. No longer kinetic energy, but potential energy, alive with possibility.


End file.
